The Wedding
by Lou-deadfroggy
Summary: As Elrond, Gandalf and Galadriel prepare to leave Middle Earth, the youngest elves put on one last show of celebrations. Elladan may mask his ambitions with cheer and festivities until the last heirs of Finwe have left but he cannot hide in his wife's shadow for long before the same failings Arwen was doomed for begin to show.


**The Wedding**

**Chapter One**

Alsea looked down at the sea below, the cliffs sheltering Mithlond like two wings holding in the little white egg that was the haven. In the morning sun it looked white although as their neared it the buildings became grey and peppered with salt. The sight held her eye for even in all her years there she had not seen such a fleet as was assembled in the bay. For years ships had been added, one by one to create the flotilla that now was moored along the gulf of the Lhûn. Not since Fornost and the fleet sent to aid the refugees of Arnor had the bay even become remotely full. It saddened her heart to see the end product of her people's work. Galdor would be proud. Círdan would look upon his achievement with a bitter pride for although they had done a mighty feat they were building their own funeral biers it seemed. Each ship would carry a little part of the light of the Eldar into the West never to be seen in middle Earth again, to its detriment. The company she rode with was hardly full of cheer, not quite silence falling upon some larger parts of it. Nearly two hundred elves, most from Lórien and Imladris with stragglers from Lindon had made their way in Galadriel's host towards Mithlond. It was not the wedding party Alsea had hoped for. In her dreams, of course her mother would have been there, in her more realistic fantasies she at least had her brother, sister and uncle to stand with her. Instead she rode beside her father, leaving most of their family the other side of the continent. Even Elladan could not have his entire family there, his sister stayed in Gondor readying for Aragorn's absence as they began to set out for Dale and Celebrían was gone many years before, using the same road Elrond was about to take.

"Should we not wait?" she had asked herself and him many times. "In Valinor, when all is over, then everyone we love will be there." Elladan would pause, never speaking, letting her answer her own question. She dared not wait. A shadow grew in her mind, a fear of something she could not understand. She dared not wait in case the day never came and she would not risk that. Her world had shrunk to the ellon riding beside her and for all the love she bore her sister and brother, she could not hold off for their sakes. Not when her uncle revealed himself afraid of the future. It seemed a strange thing, to be afraid when the Enemy was cast down in and there was no one left to fight. Yet Glorfindel nearly shook with fear as they bade him farewell, Elrond slept uneasily and Celeborn was quiet. It appeared only Erestor could still smile, even if each one was weaker than the last. Lindir did not leave his side on the journey, halfway between Galadriel's party and a contingent of Lórien troops to act as a guard. Her good-uncle was weary, Alsea could see that and she feared that the journey home would be too much for him. As the gulls cries could be heard from the hill, so too could the winces of pain or sighs that came from those who had ignored their call too long. Elrond refused to look at the water, staring instead at his horse's mane. Galadriel was looking straight ahead in defiance. Alsea reached out to Elladan, touching his wrist briefly before falling back beside Erestor and Lindir.

"We ought to have put more thought into this," she said ruefully; "Neither Elladan or I have the faintest clue how to hold a wedding. We have not even asked Círdan's permission to hold it here."

"As if he could reuse you anything," answered Erestor. He rode with his eyes half closed, leaning dangerously to one side, where Lindir had placed himself if he was needed to catch his father.

"I do hope you have something to wear, cousin," he said with more cheer than anyone else seemed to be able to muster. "Otherwise we shall all have to leave our clothes in the trunks so as not to make you look dull." Selfishly Alsea was glad Arwen was not present and she could be the most beautiful elleth there. She allowed herself her vanity.

"I know what I am wearing. I know exactly what it is I want, all that is left is to convince Círdan to go along with my plans." She had a perfect little minxish smile in place, plotting as her father called it.

"Just tell us what you want done and Lindir will do it." Erestor woke up enough to offer his son a weak smile. "Ah, the first to reach the flagstones." The vanguard of their company had entered the gates, the sound of hooves on stone echoed up to those still coming down the hill. Erestor closed his eyes completely as if to ward off the noise.

"It is not much further," she murmured, trying to reassure them. "It is not a slight to put you up in Galdor's house, is it?" It did feel like a slight to Erestor, after all he had helped her mother build it.

"I do not mind." He looked off into the distance, out beyond the confines of Mithlond towards the empty hills. Beyond the horizon if his gaze could have reached would be the Blue Mountains. She thought even under the grey sheen of exhaustion he looked almost angry at the thought of what lay away over the hills.

"I suppose every house will be full now," said Lindir. It was clear he at least shared Alsea's desire for a more festive atmosphere. They were both painfully aware it was not going to be everything they hoped for.

"Our house will be, as will Galdor's. There should still be some room in the Ship House, Círdan was expecting to have to put Elladan up if Gandir was here. I do not envy those from Lindon." Annubŷr led those weary of Gil-Galad's long shattered realm to the sea and they would all be housed together. "The King's House will be rather cramped."

The hill levelled out suddenly, always sooner than expected, then they were under the wide gatehouse arch and in the city. It had no towers, no high arches and by all accounts Mithlond was plain. A mixture of white and grey dull stone, no marble or painted facades were on show. Inside each house had its owner's unique sense of beauty carved out, some delved beneath the earth to hidden tidal pools that would run straight into the bay, others were forests sheared in granite. Alsea had grown tired of beauty being hidden from the sea's storms. In Imladris the skill of every sculptor, painter or architect was on show and she could wander for hours without ever seeing it all. That was the haven she could dream of. Mithlond had become a weary grey outpost, the last port of call before the hopeless voyage. No King would come to the King's House, no miracles in Iaunbâr. Only ships and sorrow.

Those from Lórien were being lodged in the grand house Lady Lentalin dwelt in, set back from the road amidst the most perfect gardens. The effect the stark pillars and narrow archways of the balconies was lost as elves, horses and wagons blocked the street. Alone Lady Lentalin showed something more than grey stone and Alsea knew her way around the interior better than her own house. Not since Alsea's parents had ridden off to war had Lady Lentalin received so many visitors, although now her guests did not require frequent meals, naps and swaddling.

She and Lindir were forced to dismount to lead their horses, Erestor staying put, through the throng. Eventually they moved away up the hill which formed the last barrier before the sea. It had by far the most spectacular view of the bay and the fleet.

"Alsea," a quiet murmur came from her uncle. "Is Pengolodh's house still empty?" She nodded, looking at the darkened shut up rooms above the library.

"The lower floor is open, as always. No one has been there since you locked it up." She glanced at the last window, a tiny balcony looking out over the street and for a moment could have sworn she saw a figure. A blink and it was gone.

"It was a cramped suite he built," Erestor added. She could not help but look back at the balcony, a chill running down her spine.

"Is all well?" asked Lindir.

"Aye." Between Pengolodh's library and her home lay the stables shared by the entire street, a road leading straight to the northern gate and the fields beyond ran alongside Galdor's garden. His window, long since used as a door, was open onto the street, revealing the disarray of easels beyond.

"Mae govannen, Erestor!" For once Galdor had opened the split door that made his house look like part of the stables. "Lindir, Alsea." With the blond elf's help Erestor dismounted. Alsea turned away so she did not have to see how Galdor caught him. Galdor managed to laugh cheerfully, calling out to Lindir as if all was well.

"Will Elladan get lost on his way here?" Lindir asked her from the stable doorway.

"He has gone with our fathers to speak with Círdan. We have quite flooded his town." Galdor had disappeared inside with Erestor, leaving them to carry in the packs from the stables. They left them just inside the window and sat on the ledge a moment.

Lindir fidgeted, refusing to look calm now that his father was out of his sight. It took only a minute for Alsea to tire of him looking over his shoulder into the house.

"Is there anything that can be done?" she asked eventually. She already knew the answer.

"I told him not to come, but he did not listen. He wants to send Elrond off, and see you wed." Lindir's smile vanished suddenly, dropping clean away. "Enjoy your celebrations, cousin. Let me fret over him." She doubted she could manage that.

"Why does he not stay here? I do not want him to go yet surely-"

"You think too easily of the sea, Alsea. He does not hear it." They lapsed into silence.

From the main street they could hear the company crowding into the houses allocated for them. Lady Lentalin, Círdan and those who still flitted in and out of the King's House would be overrun with guests. A few others were housing friends or relatives as Galdor volunteered to. It had surprised her that he pre-empted her request, putting forward his home for Erestor and Glorfindel before she had even asked for rooms. Elsewhere the grand houses of what had been built as a court were being filled, not with Gil-Galad's joyful nobles but grim faced survivors of the end of their age.

"You should cease thinking," Lindir told her with a small smile. "I can see, whatever is on your mind is only making you as melancholy as the rest of us. Go and find Elladan, making plans should cheer you up." He stood, pushing her off the windowsill into the street.

"Come with me, Elladan will want you to set the music for us!" He pulled his arm from her hand, shaking his head.

"Later, first I had better help with these." There was some small feeling of guilt in her gut as she walked away down the street. Of course she cared, yet caring in a more physical sense was too alien for her. It was easier to walk away. She disliked herself for that.

It was with a somewhat sour mood that she made her way through the streets, unnaturally busy around the Ship House. A few lonely souls were staring at the water, clogging up the quay to the gentle frustration of the mariners. Feredir was trying to get through with armfuls of rope between the wistful onlookers. Alsea managed to giggle as his eyes almost popped out of his head at the wander in front of him.

"Stop that," he snapped but grinned. "They are worse than seagulls." They walked along together, weaving in and out of those who could not quite bring themselves to walk down to the sand.

"It will be empty when the others are gone," she murmured. Not only was a large part of those who dwelt in Lórien and Imladris leaving, they were taking most of the mariners with them. Those that remained of her childhood companions were leaving, suddenly all at once when it had always been but a trickle. She knew Mithlond had escaped the worst of the war casualties, Mirkwood and Lórien had borne the brunt of Sauron's shadow. It was now Mithlond's turn.

"I must leave you. Is Galdor occupied? We are running low on brute force to carry masts." Feredir mock saluted her as he turned.

"Not Galdor, but I shall find some oxen to send to you!"

"Oxen? Be kinder, Alsea," chided Círdan from the balcony of the Ship House. Inside the last touches were being put to one last vessel. Círdan was leaning over the railings, looking down at the last of the fleet. There was surprisingly little thoroughfare over the bridge that ran through the house and her words were easily heard.

"You call them worse," she muttered, pulling herself up the stairs four at a time. She was not quite pouting as she reached the top.

"Come here and tell us your grand plans." He was smiling behind his beard, wide bright eyes laughing at her. Next to him sat Elrond, somewhat more sombre. She took the spare chair, pulling her feet up to her chest. "As excited as an elfling with marchpane."

"I want the field Naneth was married in," she began at once. "And white roses, not golden flowers." Elrond glanced away at that. Of course her sister had been swamped in them on her wedding day, her uncles could not get away from the infernal flowers. There was pride in your house then there was their fascination with the plant. She would not change it much, just enough.

"And turtle doves and sunsets?" Elladan asked as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. The twins had appeared behind her suddenly, bright noise and laughter. "Gossamer silk and tasteless wine."

"It is not tasteless!" Círdan watched them, amused. It was Elrond who had trouble with bringing a smile to bear. "Elrohir, be on my side."

"I am afraid-" He kept them both waiting. "I do think Gondorian white wine has a slight taste." Alsea threw her hands up at him. She had a soft spot for the weak wine of the Edain, over the harsh reds from Dorwinion.

"We shall see what can be done," said Círdan. "The meadow is not a problem, although you have left it late to find so many roses."

"I do not need many."

"Cornflowers," Elladan added softly in her ear. She could not stop him adding glimpses of the past.

"You are planning a summer wedding in autumn." Círdan shook his head. "It will rain on you."

"Then it will be memorable," answered Elladan. "Come, melda, it is time you showed me the view from this meadow." It bothered her that Elrond still made no sign of interest, staring down at the ship being built rather than at his sons. It would be the last he would see of either boy yet he was hardly making an effort.

"I am going to find Lindir," announced Elrohir. "Someone needs to keep an eye on him." They left Elrond sitting there morosely next to Círdan who had begun rearranging his beard.

Elladan leaned closer to her, her arm wrapped around his shoulders. Alsea did her best not to trip as she steered them towards the gates.

"See if you can find Liniel as well." Elladan spoke across her to his twin, his voice speeding up. "Forgive me if-"

"Not at all. Nairn?"

"She is not-" She wondered if there was any point in them actually speaking since they already knew what the other was thinking.

"I hope you find the meadow to your liking," Elrohir said at last in full and turned down the street towards Galdor's house. They had largely stopped their half sentences and mind reading around others, only when pressured did they revert to it.

"Is there naught we can do to stir him into something resembling joy?" she asked. Elladan had grown quiet, running a hand along the low wall.

"I think it is too much to ask."

The meadow was beautiful, overlooking the bay and full of wildflowers. They walked to the trees at the far end and looked back towards the grey walls of Mithlond. The chirps and whistles of a thousand insects almost drowned out the sound of the waves.

"What are you afraid of?" Elladan turned to her suddenly. It was hard to put into words, the shadow out of the corner of her eye.

"Uncle fears something, evil has not gone for good. I fear-" At a loss she stared helplessly at the ground where her mother had plighted her troth. "It feels as if a great wave is coming, not from the sea but within my veins. The slow drawing back before the swash hits the beach. The calm before the storm."

"This war has hardly been calm. It seems to me that those who have seen too many wars cannot believe it is over. They are holding on to the only thing they know, fear and sorrow."

"Would you dismiss their fears so quickly?"

"There is nothing left to fear!" he spat angrily. "I want to send my father across the sea without a shadow over my shoulder. I want what time remains to rebuild Lindon to glory and have us remembered as more than wraiths. I want the kingdom Gil-Galad lost." There was silence, even the crickets quietened down for a moment.

"You have as much ambition as I do, perhaps more." She did not quite dare look at him as he said that. "Alsea?"

"Yes." It was with a vicious smile that she took his hands. "Let us send them off along with their fears." It settled him so she said it. "Our turn has come." She determined to shunt her uncles' fears out of her mind. It was their shadows she could feel, or else the remnants of Sauron, nothing more.

"Can we have real wine though, please?" She laughed.

"Anything."


End file.
